It's a Bit Complicated

On their sophomore effort, Art Brut have wisely managed to incrementally expand their sonic palette while singer Eddie Argos evinces a slightly more grown-up perspective-- and yet, the group never strays too far from its original M.O.

If ever there was a group sensitive to the dreaded sophomore slump, it'd be Art Brut. For a group who made their entrance with the autobiographical origin story "Formed a Band", the pledge that "it's not irony, it's not rock'n'roll," and a humble and brash sound meant more to buttress singer Eddie Argos' wry observations than draw attention, landmines for a "mature" follow-up are everywhere. Change the lyrical approach to sober up the honest and clever self-indulgence, and you forfeit the angle that makes Art Brut unique and lovable. Pretty up the music too much, and you distract from and compromise Argos' regular-dude frontman bit. Merely remake Bang Bang Rock N' Roll, and risk the accusation that the band's concept was only good for one 30-minute shot, sentencing the group to the cult-band one-and-done footnotes. No wonder the second album is called It's a Bit Complicated.

Perhaps aware of this foreboding obstacle course, Art Brut have wisely managed to somehow make all of these mistakes and none of them, incrementally expanding their sonic palette while Argos evinces a slightly more grown-up perspective, yet never straying too far from the band's original M.O. Sure, there's a more muscular lead-guitar on most tracks here, they've discovered the joys of audible backing vocals, and a horn section even turns up on "Late Sunday Evening", but there aren't any ill-advised dalliances with laptop beats or orchestration or even, god forbid, ballads. Meanwhile, Argos' muse has perceptibly changed from "gee-golly, I'm in a band!" and bedroom performance anxiety to domestic living and the simple joy of music-listening without blunting his wit or giving in to the temptation to talk about fame and touring.

The subtle shift is apparent from the very start, as "Pump Up the Volume" hangs on a lead riff and an almost-solo more upfront than anything on Bang Bang, albeit far too slowly played to register as overly flashy. Meanwhile, the vocal is classic Argos, amplifying the dilemma of mid-makeout radio adjustment to epic proportions, interrupting a kiss to tentatively ask "have you heard this song before?" Sexxing is, in fact, on Argos' mind throughout the record, from the courtship drama of "Direct Hit" to stay-in-bed-baby pleadings of "Blame It on the Trains". "Jealous Guy" is even the polar opposite of the last record's slightly uncomfortable impotence trilogy, finding the singer pleading with his sleepy girlfriend to stay up and frolic while torturing himself with paranoia about her exes.

But more effective than these romantic ruminations are the tracks where Art Brut switches up their meta-aware music-about-music tendencies for the better, progressing from songs about making songs to songs about the irresistible urge to build a soundtrack to one's own life. In a way, "Pump Up the Volume" fits this category as well; if nothing else, it's about wanting to enhance an already, er, stimulating experience with the proper audio accompaniment. "Sound of Summer" is even more direct, fetishizing the process of creating the perfect mixtape in painstaking detail, right down to breaking the tabs "so you can't tape over it ever." The zenith of this subject is clearly reached on "Nag Nag Nag Nag", the band's between-albums single that amps up the central riff and sun-bleached backing vocals to make the song's dead-on coming-of-age headphones drama properly triumphant.

The upgrades in production values aren't always an improvement, however, as it occasionally comes at the sacrifice of the band's scrupulous spontaneity. Argos' self-aware humor is still present-- pronouncing "here comes the really good bit!" in the breakdown of "Direct Hit" or apologizing for his Germ-glish ("punk rock is nicht tot") in "St. Pauli"-- but doesn't produce as many banner-waving one-liners. Moments like "People in Love" and "Post Soothing Out" are more demure than anything found on the group's debut, and embellishments like the horn breakdown of "Late Sunday Evening" are a poor substitute for the homegrown fist-pump peaks of older tracks like "Emily Kane" and "Modern Art".

These missteps are testament to Art Brut's hidden element: the band itself. While Argos draws the spotlight of most reviews (this one included), the rest of the band quietly adds its own crucial element, which at its best is a simple, raucous sound perfect for underscoring melodramatic tales of sex and rock. As "St. Pauli" nervously reflects, Art Brut are at heart a throwback punk band-- albeit one with a frontman that is far more charming, thoughtful, and witty than your typical three-chord bashers-- and two albums down, they're already bumping up against the constraints of that genre. By only gently nudging the musical formula on It's a Bit Complicated, Art Brut have succeeded in crafting a satisfying half-mature sequel, but may have only delayed, rather than thwarted, the sophomore jinx.